C H A R A C T E R C O N C E P T P R O P O S A L
Lor-Zod / Dorofei Zardunich ♦ Retired General ♦ Serbian Tundra ♦ Russian Federation
C H A R A C T E R C O N C E P T:
"I offered them Utopia, but they fought for the right to live in Hell."
The "Red Son" story was always my favorite Superman story because it paints an entirely different outlook for the iconic hero. I have always wanted to create a narrative that explored the idea, 'What if this Superman failed and life played out as normal?' That is what this concept is. The Red Son and the U.S.S.R. lost the Cold War and the Communist party crumbled to the wayside. What happens to this Kryptonian when the ideals he swore to were uprooted and replaced with the very regime that he fought against.
While it is also apparent that this iteration will not be a version of Clark, instead I plan on using the altered variation of General Zod. A seasoned commander who, true to his original backstory, tried to start an uprising that ultimately failed and saw him banished from Krypton. Disillusioned from this defeat he lands on Earth and aids the USSR in their rise but does not reveal himself as a superpowered weapon. Choosing to disguise himself as a General he was once again thwarted when Communism fell he now has to decide what his life will be for now.
C H A R A C T E R M O T I V A T I O N S & G O A L S:
The General will be very much a man in search of purpose. Having put his faith in the Communist party but seeing their vision lacking, Lor-Zod will have turned his life into isolation as his beloved Motherland succumbed to will have sealed himself away in his "Winter Palace" pining over the loss of two homelands. When he finally ia called back to service he is unsure if he can work in a society that is so against everything he has come to accept. With the Age of Superheroes in full effect he has to choose how best to use his power and talents.
C H A R A C T E R N O T E S:
Pyotr Roslov ♦ During the Cold War Pyotr was the head of the NKVD and the only individual, other than the Premier, who knew the truth to his origin. Zod confided much in him and considers him his closest, if only, friend in the world. Now a man in his golden years of life Pyotr continues to earn a living as a military consultant to the current regime in regards to superhuman affairs.
The Rocket Reds ♦ While he never met them in person, Zod read the files on the Soviet team and their adventures up through their disbandment. While he did not agree fully with the idea of working with the capitalists, the team itself was rather impressive to him.
Wonder Woman♦ Another hero Zod never personally met, but read the file on. While there was little in her history what he saw of her during his time gave him a certain respect for her, if nothing else, then professionally as combatant.
Location: Unknown Location - Serbian Tundra - Present
Issue #1:Back in the Saddle AgainInteraction(s): None
The high winds tossed the helicopter around causing the elderly man to grip his seat in a white knuckled grip. Pyotr had never liked these things and if it were not for this assignment he would not have come this far out into the godforsaken wilderness in one. The land was barren as far as the eye could see, nothing but frozen tundra for miles around which always made Pyotr wonder why and how HE chose to live out here. The ride lasted for another thirty minutes or so when the site they were looking for came into view. An old satellite station used in the old days as a long distance transmission station for the Motherlands troops all across Russia. When the chopper landed Pyotr quickly stood up and got out and was immediately hit with a blast of freezing wind. After leaving instructions with the pilot he made his way inside.
The inside was barren, outdated equipment lay scattered across desks as if everyone that worked in the facility suddenly picked up and left in a hurry. Clutching the coat tighter around his neck Pyotr walked further in the facility. Memories flooded him as the past seemed to come alive before him, he could hear the sounds of hard working Russians going about their duties for the glory of the Motherland. Shaking his head dismissively he continued his way down the winding hallways of the facility until he reached his destination. A great steel door blocked his passage as he looked at the keypad just to the left of the door. Pulling from years of knowledge Pyotr keyed in the passcode and waited as the great steel door creaked and groaned into action as it slowly parted revealing a service elevator.
The ride itself didn't feel as far as it was and it wasn't until the door reopened to reveal a massive underground hanger/research facility that Pyotr truly remembered the scope of where he was. The high concrete ceiling of the room seemed to go on forever as he continued to walk past rows upon rows of tables of computers and other lab equipment. Unlike the things he saw above this equipment seemed newer, not by much, but seemed to be cleaner and to have been used more frequently than that above. In the distance he could hear what seemed to be music coming from a well lit area in the center of the room where he worked his way towards. As the area came into view a single man sat with his back turned to him as Pyotr slowly approached him, the sound of a heavy bass rhythm pounded and echoed through the room as HE came into better focus. He looked as if he couldn't be more than his late thirties with hair greying along his temples. A muscular man he sat as the pounding rhythm of the music assaulted the silence of the room, a small trickle of vodka fell into the thick mass that was his beard as he put the glass down and spoke,
"They call this Slavic hard bass it seems quite popular among the youth nowadays…"
As his voice trailed off one could hear the saddening undertone of his words. All Pyotr could do was chuckle,
"Yes, the young people never did have a decent taste in music, even in our day hehe."
Walking from behind the man Pyotyr sat on the couch opposite the man and slowly turned the radio off. As he gazed upon the figure before him he couldn't help but marvel at the specimen before him. It had been thirty years since he last saw him but physically he didn't appear to have aged. A man still in his prime with only minor discoloration of his hair, Pyotr could only dream of such an existence.
"So...what brings the head of the NKVD to my humble 'Winter Palace'?" the sarcasm dripping from his every word.
"Always quick to the point weren't you Zod? Well, the Motherland needs your help."
"The Motherland is dead Pyotr...we killed it thirty years ago."
The cold and almost cruel demeanor that emanated from Zod caught Pyotr off guard. Such hate and disillusionment was not befitting the man that was heralded as a hero of the Warsaw Pact. The love he once felt for his adopted homeland had seemed to wax cold which caused some offense to the elderly man.
"She has not died General...but merely evolved, become something different. We fight with the people on our side governing with a fair and just hand…"
"Did we not do the same in the Republic? Did we not offer safety and balanced justice for all? We could have brought peace to all nations, but you decided to divide us and make us weak."
A deep sigh escaped Pyotr as he really couldn't deny what Zod said. Nevertheless he pressed forward,
"Times have changed Zod the world has become perilous and unstable, as you said it would. There are others like you who have come out of the shadows with power comparable to yours. Hell even the Americans heroes like you now. I have been tasked by the Prime Minister to bring together a team to protect the Russian people from this new era and you are the only one I have faith in to lead it. So would you please help an old friend protect his home?"
The cold grey eyes closed as he shook his head and gave a weak smile,
"For you my friend I will try."